All will be well. Really.

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

St. Alban's, Simsbury, CT

Psalm 23; Acts 9:36-43; Revelation 7:9-17; John 10:22-30

Julian of Norwich, May 8, 2022

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. May that point us to the living Word who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 

Good morning all. It is good to be back with you in person. Happy Easter. I am so grateful that Easter is a whole season. It is not just a day. We get to spend fifty days celebrating the truths at the center of our faith - that hope is real, new life is always possible, and love is stronger than anything, even death. 

In addition to being the fourth Sunday of Easter, it is also the feast day of Julian of Norwich. For me, that makes it a day when I get to visit with an old friend. Julian is one of the five thinkers about whom I wrote in my doctoral dissertation. So, she is indeed an old friend who just about lived with me for years!

Given how much I value her wisdom and insight, I could probably come up with reasons why her message was relevant any day of the year. And yet I think she has some particularly important messages for us as the people of faith in the midst of all that is going on in our lives and world right now. Here we are, more than two years into a global pandemic. The realities of war, poverty, natural disasters, gun violence, racism, and all the forms of oppression that keep us from realizing the kingdom of God here on earth, are ever present in our headlines and our communities. Not to mention whatever challenges we are all dealing with in our own families and relationships. It is enough to leave us feeling exhausted and even despondent at times. I would imagine all of us have had moments or even days where all the challenges of the present time feel overwhelming. This is why I am so grateful for the Easter season, for Psalm 23, and our readings today. Together with the life and writings of Julian of Norwich, they ground us in our faith and provide a sure foundation for our hope. They all affirm for us that we are never alone in the midst of challenges and that the love of God is stronger than everything else. What I love about our readings today and about the life and writings of Julian is that they offer a hope that is grounded in experience. They do not offer rose colored glasses or just blithely assure us all will be well. They acknowledge the reality of the valley of the shadow of death and remind us that God is leading us out of that valley. We can look ahead with hope. 

Just in case you don’t know much about the life or times of Julian, let me give you a brief synopsis. Her name “Julian” is taken from St. Julian's Church in Norwich where she lived as an anchorite for many years. An anchorite is someone who lives a solitary existence in a cell attached to a church. They have a window into the Church to watch mass being celebrated and a window through which they can serve as a counselor to the people of the world, but they do not generally leave their cell. She lived like that for decades! Don't I wish I could have called her up when we all went into lockdown in 2020 to learn how you live well in circumstances like that.

Julian was born in the late 1300s and died in the mid 1400s. She lived through the Black Death, a plague that came multiple times in the 14th century and took approximately 40% of the population. Hear that again - 40% of the population. She would be marveling at all the advances of modern medicine and how many people are surviving and recovering from the virus. Recent reports from the WHO put the mortality rate for COVID worldwide is about 18%. 

Julian is famous for her writings. It was a rare thing in the 1400s for a woman to be able to read and write, but Julian was definitely a scholar who knew her Scripture and the theology of her day well. She had a series of visions during an illness which she then spent many years reflecting on and writing about. Her writings are collected in a text known as Revelations of Divine Love.

If she is known in popular culture at all, she is known for her saying, “All will be well. All will be well. And all manner of things shall be well.” Taken out of context this can seem like a pollyanna statement that seems to completely disregard the realities of the present moment. But Julian was not oblivious to the realities of pain and suffering. She knew them well in her own life, and in the lives of the people who came to her for counsel and advice. 

Julian lived in a time where, as scholar Barbara Tuchman notes, “death was to be met any day, around any corner.” The fragility and sacredness of life was a truth she knew all too well. Suffering and hardship were an expected part of daily life. Her conviction that all will be well is a deeply meaningful one, precisely because it is a statement of deep faith and hope born out of a daily life where things rarely went well. It is a statement that believes there is more to life than what we can see in the present moment. It is a belief that tomorrow can and will be different than today. It is a belief that there is always the possibility of more, the possibility for new life, for transformation, even in the midst of our darkest moments. 

Julian lived and wrote a theology that is also beautifully articulated in the 23rd Psalm. It is the steadfast belief that no matter what shadows we may have encountered, no matter how we are struggling through the valleys of life, we can trust that we never walk alone and that the valley is not our destination. There will be rest and still waters. There will be a feast spread before us. Our cup indeed overflows. And it's important to note that neither the Psalm nor Julian would say that feast, that rest, are only found in the next life. Remember it says that God spreads out a table in the presence of our enemies. There is hope and much joy to be found even in the midst of whatever struggles we face. 

That bit about rest and care for our bodies is key. Reading the writing of Cole Arthur Riley has helped me to better understand the connection between rest and salvation. She notes that in Scripture the two are often connected, as they are in our Psalm or in that familiar prayer, "in returning and rest we shall be saved." Riley writes, "What a peculiar answer to the valley of the shadow of death. You might expect God's response to be to have people rise, to empower them to fight. But God's answer is unapologetic care for the body. The deepest yet most neglected of needs." (This Here Flesh, 147). And she goes on to say, "Yet when we invite people into spirituality, too often rest is reduced to an inner posture someone should adopt while exhausting their body. And she cautions us, "If the 'salvation' you have been promised requires you to do and say more, you can be rightly suspicious of it." (148)

I don't think we necessarily need to go to the extreme of becoming an anchorite like Julian. We don't need to spend our lives separated from the world. No doubt, though, we could all use a little more rest. I don't necessarily mean sleep, although that certainly counts. We need the rest that restores our souls. The rest that grounds us in the truth of God's presence and reminds us that all will be well, even if it isn't today. 

So in this Easter season, when the days are lengthening and creation is bursting forth with beauty, when we are surrounded by messages that say we need to do more and have more, we can pause and renew those practices that restore our souls. Maybe it's time outside, maybe it's conversation with a friend, maybe it is opting to sit down and savor a cup of coffee or a meal instead of eating standing up in our kitchen or while we drive. Maybe it's a new book or an art project. Maybe it's just taking a few minutes each day to be, to reflect with gratitude on the gifts of our surroundings and our companions on the way. Whatever it is for you, I hope you will find ways to rest and restore your soul in the weeks ahead.

And may those moments of rest ground you in Julian's conviction that All shall be well. No matter what today or this week or next week bring, we can hold fast to that beautiful truth. All shall be well. Amen.